Aftershock
by Baelfire
Summary: A DARK-MERLIN Reveal: When the bonds of loyalty break completely, they can never be reforged.


**Aftershock**

* * *

**Disclaimer**: As much as I would love to own Merlin, it remains a dream.

* * *

**Warnings**: Angst, angst and more angst.

* * *

**Summary**: When the bonds of loyalty shatter, the only sound is the tinkling of glass. A DarkMerlin reveal fic.

* * *

**Authors Note**: I think I should probably apologise for what may happen in later chapters… I may disjoint a few noses; I am going on an Anti-Arthur crusade.

I plan on much metaphorical pillaging and burning.

This is a reaction to me reading to many reveal fics which I thought went too smoothly and too many bad days at work.

Oh and I promise I am working on my other stories, I was just in such a foul mood that this was the most appealing.

* * *

**Prologue** – **A spark can make a blaze**

* * *

The wood burned.

The smell of roasting flesh, wafted up on the flames, into his face.

He screw his eyes shut, a final futile attempt to keep the smoke from them.

He was going to die, he had failed his destiny.

This was how it ended.

It was over.

* * *

He had seen the look in Arthur's eyes, he knew.

He had worked out who he was, who Dragoon was.

He hated him. That hurt more than the flames, flames that lapped lovingly at his feet, through the wood on the pyre.

* * *

Burning. That was his worst fear, a fear as intense as his fear of discovery, and now both had come true.

He hadn't bothered to try and explain.

He had seen the look in Arthur's eyes.

There hadn't been any point.

* * *

It hurt, but he would not scream, he would not give his king the satisfaction.

He had failed, Morgana had won.

He was going to die.

* * *

The pain was growing, the flames rising, eating its way up his legs, higher, higher it climbed

Oh how it hurt, how he longed to scream, to do something.

His magic was useless, he couldn't hurt Arthur. Not ever.

He was going to die.

* * *

The urge to scream, to release some of the energy was building, he had to fight it. He would not let it out. It would die with his lies, with him.

He had once said he would be happy to be Arthur's servant until the day he died, he hadn't realised just how true it was.

How could he have known? How could he have known just how true it was?

* * *

He hadn't had the strength to look Arthur in the eye, not after than first look, not after seeing the hatred. More intense than he had ever seen on Arthurs face, not even when he had looked at Morgana.

It was fuelled by the betrayal.

* * *

He had seen something in Arthur's eyes break, some part of Arthur shatter.

He had broken it. He had hurt his king. This was the only way to amend that.

He had to serve his king, and if this was what he ordered, then so be it.

He kept his eyes closed; he didn't want to see their faces, not Gwaine, not Gwen, not Percival, not Leon.

He didn't want to see the betrayal, the hate.

* * *

He should have been glad than Gaius wasn't joining him, he had managed to talk the old man out of talking to Arthur, had told him that maybe this was the way it was meant to be.

It could be after all there was nothing that said he would be alive to see this Albion.

Maybe through his death Arthur would see.

But it was a fools hope, he knew he had failed, he should have told Arthur, should have done more, have tried harder.

Deep down he knew he had failed.

* * *

He couldn't hold the scream back any longer; it tore itself from his lips, one short cry of pain, filled with desolation, of broken hope.

He was going to die. This was it.

* * *

He had thought of calling Kilgharrah but no, he would not.

He had to serve his king. It was the only way.

* * *

But why did he care? Why should he care? The man hated him? Why should he care for this destiny?

What had destiny ever done to him? Hurt him. That was what destiny did.

Look what it had done to Morgana.

* * *

Why should he serve this man, this idiot, this _prat_. He didn't have too.

Why should Arthur have to be the one to restore magic to the world?

Why should he die for this man, this man who treated him worse than he did the dirt at his feet, why should he suffer for this man?

Magic rose within him, forcing the flames from his body.

* * *

Traitor. Merlin was a traitor, he would only turn on Camelot, had already turned on Camelot.

Was he working for Morgana? Why he had thought they were friends. He had thought things would be better now, now that he had driven Morgana off again.

He hid his confusion behind his anger.

* * *

Merlin had refused to look him in the eye. Good. That was as it should be, he should fear him.

He watched as the boy burned.

He had murdered his father; his magic had killed his father. It made sense now, what a fool he had been, they had all been. Merlin had fooled them all.

That was why he had to die, if the fool was too stupid to use magic then so be it, he seriously doubted Merlin was powerful.

Had Gaius known? He would have to ask… But did he want to know?

* * *

A thought struck him. Merlin must have released the Dragon.

It was Merlin's fault the Dragon had nearly destroyed the city.

He stood watching the flames engulf the body of his servant, of his… His… His _friend_.

He was never your friend, it was lies all of it.

* * *

How Merlin must have laughed, at all of them. They had though he was their friend and all that time he had been laughing at them.

He could feel the burn of Gwaine's glare on him. There was trouble brewing. Curse merlin.

This was supposed to be his time; three days ago he had been so oblivious, marrying Gwen. He had been so happy. He was such a fool.

Why did everyone betray him? Where was he going wrong? What was it about him?

He was too easily tricked, everyone had, even his wife and now Merlin, who had supposed to be his friend, his servant.

* * *

A cry shock him from his thoughts, back the burning, it was filled with pain, sorrow, despair.

For a moment he was tempted to stop the execution, to save his friend. But then he remembered, he remembered what it was Merlin had done.

He felt Gwaine's glare soften slightly, he had seen his involuntary movement.

He, the king of Camelot, had to maintain the rules; he had to set the standard. Magic was evil; it had destroyed both Merlin and Morgana.

He had to destroy it.

He had to finish his father's work, for both of them. If he couldn't save them, he would do the next best thing, he would save others from their fate.

He couldn't believe he had ever thought of repealing the ban on magic.

* * *

He couldn't look at the pyre; he looked at his wife, at Gwen. She was beautiful.

But she had lied too, hadn't she, everyone had, except Gaius. Or had he.

The man was supposedly close to Merlin, but then so had he been, or at least he thought he had. But he had never understood Merlin, not until now. But the old man was far more intelligent than he could have hoped to have been.

* * *

Merlin was clearly attached to the old man, seeing as how cut up he had been when Gaius had been kidnapped, but perhaps he had arranged that, after all he had been 'elsewhere' that evening. So maybe that was a lie.

It hit him; they must have found Merlin's books of magic in Gaius's chambers. How could he have been so stupid?

The witch finder had seen, but he supposed Merlin had had them all under his thumb by then. Had Merlin been the reason Morgana had turned evil?

He didn't want to think this anymore.

Only two people would have the answers, one was burning on the pyre; the other was dying in a cave somewhere.

He tried to think of something other than Merlin, think of Gwen he told himself

* * *

Merlin had supposedly been Gwen's friend too; he could imagine how it felt to her, to see her two best friends destroyed by the same thing.

She would understand.

The fire was moving. He looked at the pyre, Merlin was using magic.

* * *

Through the flames he could see the golden eyes, the flames were being forced from Merlin's charred body, if it wasn't for the golden eyes the body could have belonged to a dead man, all mangled and seeping puss.

The crowds had fallen completely silent.

He could feel the knights tensing around him.

All was quiet, and for a moment he simply looked into Merlin's eyes of molten gold, filled with hatred.

* * *

So this was the real Merlin.

"I-I-I… Trusted… Y-You… You-u bet-traye-d-d me…"

It seemed to take considerable effort for Merlin to say the words

He had betrayed him? That seemed warped.

He didn't reply, simply gestured to the knights, move in and finish him off. Merlin had to be weak, if he had taken so long to cast the spell.

"I-I wa-as… Told th-ings… A-Abou-t us… The future… Of… C-amelot" Merlin seemed to sigh. "All… Li-es"

"You would know all about that wouldn't you Merlin?"

He knew he shouldn't have said anything, he shouldn't have baited the sorcerer, but he couldn't help himself.

* * *

Out of the corner of his eye, he could see the knights moving into position, out of sight of the pyre, hidden in the crowds.

He saw flicker of pain in Merlin's eyes, perhaps he had been friends with the man once, a long time ago.

Before the magic.

"I-I-I… Didn… Wan… Oo"

* * *

He ignored the implication focusing on that Merlin seemed to be losing what little strength he had.

As much as he would have himself for doing this he had to, is duty as king had to come first.

As always.

* * *

Merlin had never been any good at understanding the hand signals, and now given the amount of pain he should be in; Arthur didn't have to worry about being too discreet.

* * *

He would not morn for Merlin, he would not let himself.

He had to neutralise the threat to his kingdom, to his people, personal feelings could interfere with ruling; his father had taught him that.

His father had been a good man. A good king.

His father had rarely been wrong.

* * *

For the first time in his life he wished he had listened to his father, and let Merlin die when he had drunk the poison. Perhaps none of this would have come to pass.

* * *

He made the gesture, right when he saw Merlin's eyes fade back to blue.

He watched as the knights, not his Knights, not the knights of the round table, they had been right in front of him, Merlin would have seen.

Besides, Gwaine would have probably aided Merlin, rather than kill him.

No these knights were newer, eager to prove themselves.

* * *

He watched as they burst from the crowds, charging towards the chained, half burnt sorcerer, they had him surrounded.

Merlin sought his eyes one last time; he saw them flare gold, brighter, more pure than anything he had ever seen, the whole eye was consumed.

The knights were sent flying into the crowd with a sickening crash, it was a terrifying display of power, it would seem he had misjudged Merlin.

* * *

Merlin looked to the sky, Arthur had tried to kill him again, was burning not enough? Well he would show him.

In the sky, the clouds began to writhe, darkening, lowering.

He would raise Camelot to the ground.

* * *

Rain began to fall, lighting struck at the buildings, at the people; fires spread.

They would burn, like they had tried to burn him. He would make them feel it, they would suffer, they would all suffer for doing this to him.

He would kill them all

* * *

"Merlin!"

A woman's voice, he knew that voice, who was it?

"Merlin! Stop it, please stop it, you'll kill them!"

It was Gwen, Gwen was his friend.

He couldn't kill his friends.

* * *

What was he doing? He should have let the flames claim him; he was Arthur's servant, not Morgana. He would not become a monster.

He let the magic fade, the storm dissipate.

* * *

A flash in the air, a sudden pain in his chest. Something wet trickled from the wound. Blood.

They had shot him.

It hurt, more than the flames; it was a more concentrated pain.

He should kill them all.

But no.

No he would not, they had been his friends.

He looked to see who had fired the arrow.

* * *

Gwaine.

It had been Gwaine.

Gwaine had shot him.

It didn't make sense, he forgot about the storm, how he had set the buildings on fire, how he had been slaughtering people.

Why would Gwaine shoot him?

* * *

He had to get away, far away, the rope binding his hands snapped, he staggered. Without the support from his hands, his legs could not support him.

He collapsed in a heap.

He had to get away, he tried to crawl, but something was caught around his ankle.

He struggled, he needed to get away.

Something, or someone pulled him backwards, there was a sharp pain in his lower back, then nothing.

* * *

Arthur watched the storm, horrified. He had to do something, how could _Mer_lin have this power?

He was frozen, lightning was blasting buildings apart, hell it was blasting people apart.

He couldn't get Merlin crazed expression out of his mind.

He had never thought he would see that on Merlin's face, he had always seemed so happy.

* * *

He needed to do something, he had to do something.

Gwen was calling out to Merlin; she was doing a more peaceful version of what he should be doing. He left the balcony. He would put an end to this.

The storm was fading, Gwen was clearly managing to reason with him, maybe some small bit of Merlin, of the Merlin they had used to know, or at least thought they knew was still there.

That made him feel awful, maybe if he had tried to talk to Merlin, this would never have happened. But no, he had given in to his anger.

Gwen was still talking, the storm still fading when he heard it.

* * *

The unmistakable sound of a crossbow firing, he looked back from where he had been fighting his way through the crowds.

It was Gwaine.

A look of intense sorrow on his face.

He had shot Merlin.

* * *

Gwaine had shot Merlin.

_Gwaine_ had shot Merlin.

* * *

He looked up at the platform; Merlin was breaking free of the restraints, the arrow stuck in his chest, not a fatal wound.

The boy looked shocked.

The madness he had seen in his eyes seemed to glimmer briefly, then fade.

Merlin was still in there.

He had to save him, from himself.

* * *

He would hate himself for this. He grabbed Merlin's ankle, unsurprisingly his burned, charred legs had been unable to support him.

Merlin flailed feebly. He dragged Merlin towards him.

He pulled out the dagger Merlin had given him for his last birthday; it seemed so ironic that the one time the dagger was used was to kill its buyer.

He tried not to think.

He plunged to knife downwards, into Merlin.

The body stiffened in his arms. Then went limp.

* * *

It was too much, he could stop the tears, they were streaming down his face, he had killed his friend.

He had _murdered _Merlin.

He shouldn't care, he should have cared.

Merlin had betrayed him. He should be glad. But he wasn't. He had killed his friend.

Almost taunting him Merlin's words drifted to him

"_Didn't want to" _

Merlin hadn't wanted magic, this was Morgana's doing, it had to be.

* * *

She would never be happy, not until she had not only won, but she had broken everyone.

This was Magic's fault.

Poor, poor Merlin.

He clung to the limp, broken body. This was his fault, his. He had killed Merlin. He had killed his friend.

* * *

Morgana sat in the cave, shivering.

It had taken all her strength to make her way to this cave, after the little white Dragon had saved her, and she had been their ever since.

Hoping for the return of her magic.

She felt completely defenceless without it; she had taken it for granted while it remained, but now. Now it was gone she felt hollow.

Empty.

Broken.

* * *

She had to get it back, how else was she going to take her place on the throne of Camelot without it.

Magic was what she was.

Her one constant in a sea of shifting, two faced 'friends'. And now it was gone.

Taken.

And she didn't know why. It made no sense; she had been fine until that dreadful day, until Arthur had stormed the Castle.

* * *

It had to be the work of Emrys, it was the only thing that made sense.

But why? If he was on Arthur's side, why wouldn't he reveal himself? Why wouldn't he openly aid her _brother_? Was he afraid?

Why would he help Arthur, she didn't understand. Why couldn't he see that the only way to be free was to have her as queen? She was the only hope for their kind.

He clearly didn't want to fight her; he had always held back when they had clashed, only ever incapacitating her, never doing too much damage, he had never struck to kill.

Yet he was her 'doom', unless the Cailleach had been mistaken, unless she had been lied to. It wouldn't surprise her, the 'Goddess' had told her opening the vale would have a lasting effect, she had been wrong there too.

* * *

Maybe she had been going about it the wrong way. Maybe she could force Emrys to side with her. She just had to find him.

To seek him out, to talk to him.

Make it clear she didn't want to fight him.

They would no doubt have to meet on his terms, but that would matter little, all she wanted to do was talk, and he had made it clear he didn't want to fight her.

She had always tried to talk to him, when they had encountered each other, admittedly she had only been trying to distract him.

* * *

A shudder ran though her, more violent than her shivering, seeming to shake her to her core.

To her very soul.

What was that?

* * *

She drew herself into a tighter ball, trying to save body heat. She couldn't be bothered to fetch wood; she had needed to rest, to recover her strength. And now she just didn't feel like leaving.

She was still deep within Camelot, she just didn't know where, she could still be very near to the castle for all she knew, she couldn't risk discovery, not without her magic.

All she had to protect her was a dagger, not even her favourite, not the one Arthur had given her for her last birthday, the one she had nearly murdered Uther with, if it hadn't been for that wind.

No doubt the work of Emrys.

* * *

If only she had known that at the time, then she could have asked Morgause about him. She would have known, Morgause always had the answers.

Morgause had always known what to do, had always another plan. But she was dead.

Thanks to Gaius. And Merlin, but she didn't like to think about that, it didn't make sense.

* * *

How had he managed to defeat her from the… Oh. How hadn't she seen it?

He was the one who had been talking to Emrys, Gaius had been protecting Merlin.

Now it made sense.

* * *

Alator had wanted the information about Emrys for himself; Merlin must have somehow escaped in the mess of Alator defeating her.

Now she understood.

It all added up.

He had wanted to find Emrys, he had robbed her of her most precious possession, admittedly only briefly, to beat her to the man.

* * *

But he had failed, apparently. Or Emrys had come to help hid agent.

It all made sense, Merlin clearly had some knowledge of magic, he had shown her to the druids. So why had he poisoned her? There had been no mistaking the pain in his eyes, as he held her.

There must have been more to the situation than she was currently aware of.

* * *

Emrys must have been behind it.

He must have forced Merlin, which would explain why Merlin had looked so relieved when she had lied to him. He had looked so happy, at the time she had thought it must have been he thought she wouldn't tell, and she hadn't, for reasons she was still unsure of.

For the first time in years she felt her hatred of Merlin fade, turning to pity.

Merlin must have been forced to lie to everyone, by Emrys, and Merlin couldn't lie, not even now, not to her. And he had no reason to feel bad, they were enemies. But still he couldn't.

So what did Emrys have over Merlin?

What would make Merlin, willing, betray his beloved prince?

There was nothing for it. She would have to… Collect him. She had so many questions, questions that needed answers. And only that boy could answer them.

That was all well and good, but how?

Merlin might be stupid, but not _all_ of the guards were. And she was _fairly_ well known to all of Camelot's citizens, due to her status as a Lady under her _father's _rule, and then during her two, albeit brief, reigns.

* * *

She would have to hope he left the city, last she knew he still had to collect herbs for Gaius and he would no longer had Gwen to go with him

Oh yes she knew all about that, she had been watching, hoping to see some glimmer of the connection that had once been between Merlin and Gwen, something she could use.

But they were only friends, unfortunately.

But Gwen was now Queen.

* * *

That had reached her ears, even in her cave, alone. She had still heard that, a better question would have been who hadn't heard?

Anyway the point was Merlin would most likely be alone.

Which was good, for her anyway, less so for Merlin, but that couldn't be helped.

He was very weak, something she had noticed even before she had fought him.

She would not need much more than her dagger to knock him out. Moving him would be more of a problem… There was only one of her, and she wasn't much stronger than he was, not without her magic to help.

What was she to do?

* * *

She needed her magic; she was nothing, a nobody without it, without she might as well have been dead.

Without it she had no hope of reclaiming her throne, of freeing her kind.

Damn Emrys, this was his fault, it had to have been. That must have been what he was doing the castle, blocking her magic.

If only she knew what she could do to counter it.

* * *

She didn't understand; why wasn't he on her side? He should have been, he was at least as powerful as her, together none would be able to stand in their way.

Did he enjoy the suffering of their people? Did he want their kind to be persecuted?

Merlin must have the answers.

She had to make him tell her.

How? She needed something over him, like Emrys had. Briefly she felt bad for Merlin, being forced into things, being black mailed all the time.

It was necessary end, collateral damage if you will.

Besides he had poisoned her.

* * *

She shifted, another tremor shook though her body, this had to be more than cold, it was growing stronger. And it had a feel too it, like… It was almost as it powerful magic was being used.

Here. In Camelot, it had to Emrys, if she could find him, they could talk, as equals.

She stood on shaky limbs, weak from disuse.

She had to find him, she had to understand. Why would he not join her, despite clearly not wanting to fight her?

* * *

She was out of her cave looking around, when it happened.

* * *

The whole world seemed to shift, she feel to her knees, clutching her head.

Something shifted within her, something deep, something that felt like.

Magic.

The ground shook; she heard a scream of infinite pain, inside her head.

What on earth was Emrys doing?

* * *

The magic she could sense was growing stronger, she could see dark clouds over the trees, she could see lightning blasting at something, it was in the right area to be Camelot.

What was Emrys doing?

Slowly, so very slowly, the magic in the air around her stared to fade, to drain away.

The clouds on the horizon seemed to relax, drifting away, lightening in colour, diminishing.

She shifted, back on to her feet, breathing heavily.

She stood there, wondering what was happening, what was going on?

She felt something tingling on her chest, like an itch, but less potent, she brushed at it, but it didn't fade. It took her completely by surprise when it happened.

* * *

Nearly a full minute had passed since the last tremor; the magic was still thick in the air, filling her with a deep, carnal sense of longing.

Pain flared in her lower back, driving her to the ground, so intense she had thought she was under attack, desperately tugging out her dagger, trying to roll over.

* * *

Nothing.

* * *

The pain was so intense, more than anything she had ever felt, it was as though it pierced her very soul, white light filled her vision, blinding her.

She couldn't see through the haze of light and pain.

* * *

A distant roar of anger, of pain.

* * *

The pain in her back was fading, the light was fading, her vision was returning. She could see again.

Wind was blowing more violently through the trees, buffeting her. The magic that permeated through the forest

It was a warm wind, an eerie wind, a dry wind.

* * *

She shivered.

If she listened closely she could hear something, almost like a voice on the wind.

* * *

She couldn't quite make it out.

* * *

It was growing louder, filled with pain, of sorrow. Of failure.

She could hear it now, almost clearly, she could hear it;

"_Never Forgive… Never Forgive… Never forget"_

For the first time since she had left Camelot, she felt afraid.

* * *

People thought she was evil, called her a monster.

* * *

She was nothing compared to the malevolence she could sense from the voice, to bone deep evil that festered within the feel of the magic it radiated, the hatred, so strong it nearly over whelmed her.

She had thought she had hated Uther, but her feelings for him were nothing compared to the hatred that fuelled this… This… This spirit, the daemon, this creature of the other side.

The Dorocha had been warm and cuddly compared to this, whatever 'this' was.

* * *

This must have been what Emrys had been fighting, presumably he had defeated it, given the chanting as it had streamed passed.

She had to get to Camelot, fast, if she was to find Emrys, to talk.

They needed to talk; they had done far too much fighting and not enough talking.

Not that he had seemed to mind, he had appeared content to look at her with those strangely familiar eyes, almost pityingly, sometimes sorrowfully, like he knew something she didn't.

* * *

Merlin was dead, he should have been relieved.

He had freed his friend from the curse, the disease that was magic.

Had rid his friend of the pure evil that had claimed his soul.

* * *

He hoped Merlin was a peace, he deserved that, after all he had done for Camelot.

He had do irradiate magic from the world, he had too. It had taken his mother, his sister and his friend away from him.

His father had been right, it was nothing but evil, pure evil.

* * *

He had to save his kingdom, his people from it. He would drive it from the land; he would drive it from the earth.

Magic had no place in this world.

* * *

Merlin had affected so many people, he hoped that some of it had been real, that not all of it had been lies, that he had even if only for a small while been a true friend of Merlin.

* * *

He had insisted on having everything that had belonged to the boy burned, along with what remained of the broken body.

He didn't want to see anything that Merlin had corrupted, it hurt too much. He had thought they had been friends, but it had all been lies.

* * *

Everyone betrayed him.

* * *

Gaius was little more than a broken man, he had the impression that Gaius had known about the magic, but he didn't ask, if he didn't then Gaius wouldn't tell, and he wouldn't be forced to add him to the list of people who had betrayed him.

* * *

Poor Merlin, his poor friend.

He hoped the boy was at peace, even if it had all been lies Merlin, the Merlin he had known deserved peace.

* * *

He wished he had given Merlin the chance to explain, that he had taken the time to listen, perhaps Merlin would have still be here, alive.

No.

Merlin would have had to die anyway; he could not be seen to exercise favouritism.

He slowly became aware of his surroundings; he was in Merlin's room. He stood, he felt like he was trespassing.

* * *

This was Gaius shrine; it was an empty, dusty room.

Nothing in it.

Nothing except for on red Neckerchief.

Pendragon Red he reflected.

* * *

He had to move on, like everyone else in the Castle, they needed to move on. Merlin was in the past.

They had work to do, they had to save others from his fate.

They had to stop anyone else from following Merlin, Morgana, or the witch from years ago.

* * *

Magic had to be destroyed.

* * *

He left the room. He would never go back. He would leave his memories of the friend there.

Merlin had betrayed him, like everyone else. He could not forgive him, but he could forget.

* * *

**Authors Note**: So any fanatical Arthur fans going mad yet? No? Good, because I'm not even fully warmed up yet.


End file.
